grice: (pic#14275828)
don’t make me go wumbo ([personal profile] grice) wrote in [community profile] deercountry 2022-01-02 02:05 am (UTC)

[ falco had his first few nights of sleep after his resurgence as a squid quiet and dreamless, perfect for the fatigue his body felt from death, and yet, never really felt rested even when he slept a whole ten to twelve hours without interruption. this time had been the only time he dreamed, vaguely— of following perle to a fire at the edge of trenchwood, of a mare, of the smell of grass and being hugged . . . until he was stirred by the gentle sway given by childe.

he didn’t remember a speck of detail, but he knew he dreamed, and still smelled greenery, too— it took about three tries for falco to successfully open his eyes from the weight put upon them, coming to with more consciousness. the forth try, of his gaze narrowing and turning over his shoulder goes wider when the strike of colored hair jogs a memory that makes his gut drop.

he pulls in a breath, holds it in, and only begins to slowly breathe out as he gathered scattered thoughts and chose a few words to start with. ]


H . . . Hello. [ he’s being chary with his response to deter an overreaction— especially when childe was being rather considerate with him. he can feel his lips getting dry, but flits his tongue quickly across the bottom to remedy the sensation. ] You . . . Helped Mister Bigby— with a sword.

[ the distance between them would have been the only thing to smudge a clear image of the man, like the one he was seeing now, but it wasn’t too off— a bird’s eyes were sharp when it came to distance, and his titan was no different than a very large, partially humanoid bird. ]

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